


Taken Away

by arrow (esteefee)



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-12
Updated: 2006-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starbuck's never had much, and most of that's been taken away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken Away

Sometimes Starbuck can predict where they're headed, just from one look into Apollo’s face when he drops out of the cockpit of his Viper and glances at him across the deck. They stare at each other through the view ports during decontamination, and when Apollo goes to his quarters, Starbuck follows without a word, ready for that first spin-grab-pull into Apollo’s arms as soon as the hatch slides shut behind them.

Sometimes it they do it right after Triad, both of them damp from hasty showers and still hot from exertion. A flush mottles the smooth, perfect skin of Apollo’s chest, and his eyes are bright above his reddened cheeks, so he looks just like he does when he’s being fucked, when Starbuck is lost inside him so deep, as if Apollo were his own, personal gravity-well.

And he is, of course. And harder to figure than a black hole, because sometimes he just ambushes Starbuck on his way to the OC or wherever, and Starbuck has no idea what prompted it this time.

He doesn’t ask questions, though–doesn’t want to let on how much he needs it. It was a hard lesson that he’d learned early on at the orphanage. If they know there’s something you really care about, it gives them power over you–the power to hurt you by taking it away. _Don’t draw attention to it_. And he doesn’t. Instead, Starbuck always lets Apollo make the first move, and never stays long enough, afterward, to be kicked out.

But last night, something strange happened. And he doesn’t know whether to be glad, or worried, or just really, frackin’ terrified.

See, last night Apollo kissed him.

~~o~~

 _The previous evening..._  
  
“Gods, you can do better than that, Boom-Boom,” Starbuck taunted after picking up the rebound and sending it over to Apollo. Starbuck heard Boomer say something uncomplimentary about his parentage; privately, Starbuck admitted it could be true. He had no idea if his real father had practiced animal husbandry.

Apollo fed him the ball in a sly move and Starbuck rang another goal right before the buzzer, putting them up by two in the final score. The crowd roared, and Starbuck and Apollo shared a congratulatory hug before turning to Boomer and Giles to do some gloating.

“See,” Boomer said, panting, “I should have never donated that liter of blood this morning. Put me right off my game.”

“Or maybe you, uh, _donated_ a little too much last night to what’s-her-face–Hortensia– from the Rising Star?” Starbuck gave him his best evil grin.

“Hey, now–” Boomer started, but Apollo gave him a clap on the shoulder and offered his hand. Boomer grimaced before sharing a forearm clasp.

“Shower down, then feed me dinner?” Starbuck asked his teammate, cocking his head and giving Apollo a pained look. “You owe me for that foul I took for you last quarter.” Starbuck rubbed his ribcage to illustrate, glaring at Giles.

“Can’t,” Apollo said, sounding tired. “I have a meeting with my–with the commander. Meet me at my quarters in a couple of centares.”

With that, Apollo headed toward the showers, not even waiting to see if Starbuck had agreed.

Not needing to.

~~o~~

  
Starbuck waited in Apollo’s quarters, grateful that Boxey was staying with Athena that night. The little squirt was fun, but took more energy than Starbuck had left over after the day’s drills and then the Triad match. He cracked into Apollo’s ambrosa supply and poured himself a glass, thinking idly about the two of them, wondering if tonight would be about friendship or fucking. He never knew which Apollo he would be encountering. And they both wore the same face, pretty much. Although Apollo never smiled during sex.

The first time had been different somehow, and Starbuck had tried about a hundred times to figure out when and why it had changed. That first, tentative, fumbling kiss that Apollo had planted on him just after their return from the Ship of Lights had been the beginning, Starbuck had thought, of something incredible. Incredible, because he knew–just _knew–_ that Apollo had never done anything like it before.

Not that Apollo would ever kiss and tell. Starbuck’s own sexual tastes were widely known, but the captain had been as tight-lipped about his own relationships as he was in that first, remarkable kiss. The last one that they’d shared.

Maybe Starbuck should’ve stopped it then, made him talk about what the frack it meant, where they were heading; but he didn’t. All he could think at the time was _kissing him, Lords, I’m kissing Apollo_ and so they didn’t use many words, except for the occasional gasp of ‘Oh, Gods!’ and Apollo asking in a tight voice if Starbuck had anything for lubrication, and then there were the incredible sounds, the strange, wounded cries Apollo had made when Starbuck penetrated him for the first time.

Starbuck reached down, adjusting the hard-on in his uniform pants before taking another sip of ambrosa.

The night hadn’t ended without Apollo returning the favor, Starbuck on his hands and knees and begging for it like a daggit for a bone. And then that thick cock had filled him with fire, and he’d made some sounds of his own that he hadn’t known his throat was capable of.

Afterward they’d collapsed in a heap, and maybe that was when it happened, because Starbuck had been overwhelmed, completely obliterated–not only by how good it was, but by how painfully deep the pleasure went. And something like joy had started to crest in him before sending waves of terror crashing through his body. He’d untangled himself, afraid that Apollo would feel him trembling.

 _Don’t draw attention to it or they’ll take it away._ He’d made some joke, something about Apollo holding out on him, or hidden talents. It was funny, anyway, and Apollo made a wry comment in return and, after rolling out of bed to clean up, he’d dropped a cloth on Starbuck and said, deliberately, “Boxey will be coming home soon.”

And so Starbuck had left.

~~o~~

  
Apollo finally showed up, forty-five centons late and looking like someone had pissed in his rations.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, taking off his jacket. He unstrapped his laser and hung them up together, then looked over at Starbuck.

Still not sure which way the evening was going, Starbuck silently poured him a glass and held it up. Apollo took it but didn’t drink, just stood looking down at him.

“You’re gonna give me a crick in my neck,” Starbuck complained, patting the empty space beside him on the couch. He had both legs kicked up on the java table, and saw Apollo frown disapprovingly before settling in a chair across from Starbuck.

“What did the commander have to say?”

Apollo took a sip of his drink and shot him a quick green glance.

“The usual–lots of very critical, strategic fel-...things.”

Starbuck hid a smile when his prim friend made the polite word substitution.

“Anything classified?”

“Oh, highly classified. Such as when am I going to seal with Sheba already, and don’t I understand how helpful such a union could be for the stability of the crew and the morale of the Fleet?”

Starbuck tried not to wince, but Apollo looked at him sharply, and a strange expression flitted across his face, there and then gone. He set his barely-touched drink down on the java table with a soft clink, and rose suddenly.

“Come to bed, Starbuck,” he said, and his voice was rough, strained.

 _No, no. Make him **talk**. _ But trying would be pointless–not to mention dangerous–and the part of him that was in his pants pretty much always outweighed the voice of reason, anyway. What did logic ever earn a fellow but a headache?

At least a good bedding usually meant a good night’s sleep.

He stripped as he walked, seeing Apollo was already ahead of him, the slope of his naked back painfully beautiful where it disappeared into the band of his pants. The tight, marvelous ass flexed as he bent to get his boots off.

 _Gotta get in there._ He hoped Apollo was in the mood for it. _And how weird is it that **he** gets to make all the decisions in bed? I never let that happen with anyone else. _ He could make excuses that Apollo was his captain, so Starbuck was used to following his lead, but that was a load of felgercarb. There was another, more terrifying reason, one he didn’t want to think about, one related to the cold tide of fear that had rolled over him after the first time they’d fracked each other into the mattress. One he couldn’t afford to question.

So he followed, and soon they were stripped and wrapped around each other, his lips busy on the skin just below Apollo’s ear, which always made him crazy, so that Starbuck had to sink his fingers into the thick, dark hair and hold him still in order to continue the torment. And Apollo twisted against him, thrusting his cock against the thigh caught between his legs, until he finally broke away to roll to his belly.

 _Thank you, Lords._ Starbuck hurried to reach for the lubricant, slicking his erection in preparation before wiping his hand on the sheet so he could palm that perfect ass. He caressed it, letting his thumbs catch in the division between and parting the cheeks so he could view his target.

He leaned down low and blew gently. Goosebumps shivered up on the pale skin, and Apollo gasped a protest.

Starbuck chucked softly, but stopped his teasing. He put some lube on his fingers and then trailed a thumb down Apollo’s spine before separating his cheeks again and touching the small ring of muscle. Apollo shivered again as Starbuck rimmed the entrance with his wet fingers. But when he tried to force his fingertip inside, he found it unexpectedly tight.

“Hey, relax,” Starbuck whispered, rubbing the puckered entrance with his thumb. He saw the dark head nod, but Apollo’s fists were clenched hard in the pillow under his head.

 _The Old Man must’ve really done a number on him. Duty and responsibility up the astrum._ Only, something else belonged up there right now.

But Starbuck was patient, coaxing the tight ring to relax until finally he could get a finger in where it could do some real good, spreading the lube and turning until he could gently trip the small nub inside.

Apollo sucked air, and then let it out slowly, a hiss of decompression, and the muscle swallowed Starbuck’s finger, making his cock throb impatiently. There was more room now, and Starbuck quickly joined the one finger with a second. He moved his thumb, massaging the smooth skin below, pressing the flesh between, and at last Apollo moaned, pushing back on his knees, his hips rising in open invitation.

Starbuck leaned over and positioned himself, waiting until the last moment before removing his fingers and replacing them with the crown of his eager cock. He pushed in. _So good, this is always so good–_ but the pressure was too much, he’d barely gotten the head past the outer ring before tightness walled him off.

He waited, sweat dripping down his face with the effort, and whispered, “Easy, easy, ‘Pollo,” hardly hearing himself. He put his hands Apollo’s buttocks and stroked soothingly, almost petting him. Waiting.

He could always feel it, whenever Apollo let him inside; there was always that moment when he felt him relax, as if a thread had broken, releasing the tension. Sometimes it came more quickly, especially if it was one of the times Apollo commandeered him after Triad, or for no other good reason than they had a couple of centares to kill.

But tonight, the tense bow of Apollo’s back was unbroken, his shoulders stiff, hands still clenched tight in the pillow, as if he was afraid to let go.

Of what, Starbuck was never really sure. Conditioning, maybe, or duty, or a hundred responsibilities or needs that Apollo was constantly juggling. Starbuck never asked him about it, mainly because he knew Apollo would never explain. He might let him inside, here, into the heat of his body, but never past the defense shield of his mind.

The pressure was still there, too tight around the head of Starbuck’s cock, almost painful. It had never taken this long before, and he was starting to panic a little. He moved one hand to the base of Apollo’s spine, gently stroking the small scar there, a memento of a battle past.

“This isn’t working,” Starbuck said, ignoring the denying shake of Apollo’s head. “Apollo–”

“Just give me a micron,” Apollo grated out, and Starbuck bit back his protest that he’d already had more than a couple and he was choking the life out of Starbuck’s cock.

“You have to want it,” Starbuck said, keeping the irritation from his voice.

“I do. It’s what I want,” Apollo said, his voice almost completely muffled by the pillow, but Starbuck made out the words.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart.” He almost bit his tongue, not sure why that particular word had slipped out. He winced and waited for...he wasn’t sure what. A derisive laugh, or maybe an angry comment. But instead, he heard Apollo sigh.

And then it happened, so suddenly Starbuck could almost hear it, like the snap of something breaking. The noose around his cock loosened, and Apollo let him in.

Starbuck eased forward, panting with relief as he felt himself sink smoothly into Apollo's warm, tight channel, and he heard Apollo’s own relief as he moaned, a long, plaintive sound tinged with pleasure as the crown of Starbuck’s cocked slid gently past Apollo’s sweet spot.

“Gods,” Apollo gasped. His legs spread wider, eager now, and he pushed himself back even further, deepening Starbuck’s slow thrust.

Starbuck was in–in deep–the hot, moist clench of muscle making him tremble, but he wanted them to be closer. Reaching down awkwardly, he pulled Apollo up, shifting his knees and tugging until Apollo straddled his thighs.

“Ohhhh,” Apollo groaned as the new position led to deeper penetration. His hands flew back to clutch at Starbuck’s hips for balance.

The new position also gave Starbuck easy access to Apollo’s neck, and so he took advantage, nuzzling under the hair to nibble little bites on the salty-sweet flesh. Apollo tilted his head back onto Starbuck’s shoulder, resting it there.

Something in Starbuck’s chest caught, and he took a short breath, aching with it.

“Pol,” he whispered. He let his hands drift over the slatted muscles of Apollo’s torso before grabbing his strong thighs and shifting to thrust gently. The muscles under his hands hardened to steel as Apollo raised himself to drop down on Starbuck’s cock.

They both moaned simultaneously, the two deep notes colliding as their bodies met, again and again, hard flesh against flesh. Starbuck took Apollo’s rigid cock in his right hand and matched the rhythm, squeezing and pumping the thickness.

Apollo let out a cry. His head turned and his mouth found Starbuck’s startled lips.

“Star,” Apollo gasped into his mouth. Starbuck caught Apollo’s head with his left hand, tangling his fingers in his hair to steady the kiss, and he deepened it, desperate for the taste of Apollo’s mouth.

 _Why don’t we ever kiss?_ Too bad he didn’t have the brain space to consider the question; his mind was on autopilot, everything centered on the sensation of Apollo’s heat enfolding him, tensing around him every time he went deep, and on the sounds Apollo was making into his mouth, whimpering as Starbuck’s tongue plundered him almost as deep.

Then Apollo’s breath stopped and he pulled away, his head falling back again onto Starbuck’s shoulder as he gave a deep-throated groan. It was all the warning Starbuck had before that incredible ass squeezed hard around his cock, rippling and tugging, and the cock in Starbuck’s hand throbbed repeatedly as Apollo found his release.

Starbuck tried to hold on, but the sensation peaked, tightening his balls, and he dropped his hands to Apollo’s hips to press down hard, penetrating as far as possible before he groaned himself and pulsed deep inside Apollo’s body.

“’Pollo! Gods,” he cried as the orgasm took him, a heated wave of pleasure rising and rising. His thighs trembled with it, and he wrapped his arms around Apollo’s waist, holding tight as it blasted through him. And then it was over.

“Lords,” Apollo said softly, and his ribs lifted under Starbuck’s arms as he took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Starbuck agreed, almost speechless. _Never so good as it is with him._ The thought filled him with despair, and his mind returned to the kiss.

Suddenly he felt empty and cold. And frackin’ terrified. _How can I let go?_ But he forced himself to, easing his hold around the taut ribcage, and Apollo sighed and shifted away, giving a small grunt as Starbuck slipped out of his body.

Starbuck collapsed onto his back, and Apollo’s feet thudded against the deck as he walked, looking more than a little shaky, to the ’flush. A smug grin took hold of Starbuck’s face at the sight, but then he sighed. _I should go._ He wondered if it might be different if they were in Starbuck’s quarters–would Apollo leave afterward, just as he did? But they never went there. For one thing, a lieutenant’s bunk was hardly spacious enough for the kind of acrobatics they usually engaged in.

For another, Starbuck never asked him.

Starbuck rose and cleaned himself off with one of the small, soft cloths that Apollo always kept neatly tucked in the drawer built into the headboard. Every detail was always accounted for, in Apollo’s world.

Starbuck wondered where a loose-flying, hard-gambling, bent-for-Hades orphan fit into that.

He dressed, and left.

~~o~~

“You left.” Apollo’s voice was almost accusatory when he caught up with Starbuck the next morning at mess.

A mouth full of protein porridge gave Starbuck the necessary microns to recover from his surprise at the tone and the implied message. _He wanted me to stay?_  
  
“I didn’t know you–” Starbuck started hesitantly, and was interrupted by a pleased squeal.

“Starbuck! Where’ve you been hiding?” It was Lucinda, a cadet pilot he had trained few of sectares back. _Well, training is one word for it, anyway_. She dropped her tray beside his and sat next to him, giving him a nudge with her shoulder.

 _Felgercarb._ He looked across at Apollo, who was staring down at his meal.

“Oh, here and there,” Starbuck answered her. He took another hasty spoonful of his porridge. “Sorry, Lucinda, but we’re gonna be late for patrol.” He wiped his lips and stood quickly, catching a flicker of surprise on Apollo’s face.

“Yeah. Good to see you, Cadet,” Apollo said, standing as well.

They dumped their trays and walked out. On the way to the launch bay, Starbuck mulled over what he thought he had seen on Apollo’s face when Lucinda had appeared.

 _Did you want me to stay?_ Starbuck hunted for a way to ask without sounding like a desperate, needy fool.

Half a centare later, in his Viper with the cold stars surrounding his canopy, he was still working on it.

~~o~~

Starbuck had never been prone to deep thinking. It wasn’t his style and, anyway, he’d never been very good at it, always finding other, more exciting things to waste his mental energies on–such as nailing down the perfect pyramid system, or how to juggle his complex dating schedule.

But he figured he’d better start, at least a little, because he had this weird sense like he had cut his turbos and was just floating aimlessly, on a collision course with the nearest sanitation barge.

His wingmate wasn’t the promiscuous type. Except for Serina, Apollo hadn’t been with anyone for yahrens. _Sheba doesn’t count_ , Starbuck told himself firmly, even though it was obvious she’d been angling for a chance in the captain’s britches for a while now. But Apollo had complained to him about her balls-on approach during one of their conversations while on deep patrol. Starbuck didn’t think the girl had a chance.

 _And do I?_ Did he even want a chance? Because Apollo was, he knew, the quiet type, not one to go for just a casual thing– _but then why did he jump me in his quarters the first time?_ Over the past two sectons Starbuck had been too busy enjoying it to wonder why Apollo had started it, or even to note how incredibly out of character it was for him.

 _Maybe he’s just horny._ The Lords knew Apollo had probably been starved for it, more than a year after Serina’s death, and his hunger when they were together certainly held that up.

But then there was that smile. That small, wistful smile–gone a micron later–that had twisted Apollo’s lips when Lucinda interrupted them.

It certainly bore thinking about.

~~o~~

  
“You were pretty quiet today,” Apollo said as he slung his helmet into one of the cubbyholes lining the wall. “Something on your mind?”

Starbuck shrugged, making it part of the motion as he got out of his flight jacket. He was trying to identify the undercurrent to Apollo’s question. Unease? _Maybe he doesn’t like me thinking._  
  
Apollo followed him to his locker. He asked in a low voice, “Are you...busy, later?”

There it was. A chance, anyway, but Starbuck was going to have to take a small risk, or they’d be stuck in deep space without thrusters.

So he braced himself and said, “Can you leave Boxey with your father tonight? Or maybe Athena?” He was hanging up his jacket as he said it, his voice too quiet to be heard over the bustle of the other warriors in the quarters.

He turned, and caught the tail end of the surprise that had widened the green eyes slightly.

“Ah, sure. I can do that,” Apollo said as he glanced away.

Starbuck smiled.

~~o~~

 _Frack! Frack! What am I doing?_ Starbuck was standing in front of his closet with a set of civvies in one hand, staring at his clean uniform still hanging, and trying to decide between the two. He’d been debating it in his head for over ten centons now, and it was getting ridiculous.

_If I wear my uniform, I’m his wingman, and he’s my captain. And, anyway, it’s not like I’ll be wearing it for long, and he hardly ever sees me in anything else._

But that was the real kicker. Because if he wore his civvies, then...then it would be like....

A date.

 _Frack!_ Starbuck dumped his clothes on his bunk and sat down to put his head in his hands. _What am I doing?_ He still had no clue. All he knew was, he’d been playing it cool, not showing his hand this whole time, and it had gotten him next to nowhere. Still floating.

His comlink buzzed, interrupting the deliberations.

 _“Lieutenant Starbuck, please report to the Ready Room for special duty.”_  
  
“Frack!” Starbuck turned back to the closet and put on his uniform.

  
~~o~~

 _Best-laid plans,_ Starbuck mourned as he walked into the Ready Room and Apollo waved him over to where he was standing with Boomer. There was a telltale, grim gleam of duty in Apollo’s eye.

“There’ve been disturbing reports coming from the _Solaris_ that the commander just briefed me on. Sorry, but we’re going to have to head over there and check it out.” Apollo’s face was set, but Starbuck thought he caught an apologetic flicker in his eyes.

 _Dammit. There go our plans for the evening._ The funny thing was, Starbuck felt a little relieved. Actually, more than a little. As uneasy as he had been about leaving things casual between the two of them, at least it was something. It was almost everything. He didn’t want to lose it, lose the closeness of their bodies tight against each other, the whispered words of passion, or hearing the sounds Apollo made for him when Starbuck was loving him.

And as much as he trusted Apollo the friend, the wingmate, the warrior at his back, trusting him as a lover was a different thing entirely. He’d never trusted any lover that much. He wasn’t sure he could.

 _What’s the worst that could happen?_ But that didn’t bear thinking about, for pain sliced through him at the thought of Apollo’s possible reactions. The pity laced with compassion he could almost see painted on Apollo’s face. Or worse–he could conceive of Apollo’s sense of honor requiring him to try to reciprocate what Starbuck was feeling, forcing them both into an impossible situation, one that could eventually destroy their friendship.

“Starbuck!”

“Wha?” He realized he’d been standing there for over a centon, imagining their relationship going nova while his captain talked at him.

“You look like you just bit into a sourfruit. I’m sorry about the extra duty, but who else can I trust to back me up?” Apollo smiled at him and Boomer apologetically.

“Does that mean you’ll trust me with your pay to bank my next go at the pyramid tables?” Starbuck joked weakly.

“In your dreams, buddy. In your dreams.”

  
~~o~~

The _Solaris_ was a medium-sized freighter, one of the last to escape Caprica after the destruction of the colonies. And she looked it. Her hull was scorched and pitted with old laser scars.

Apollo announced their approach and then took them into the landing bay, settling the shuttle lightly on the deck.

He’d briefed them both on the way over. Some word had gotten back to Galactica channels that the crew was holding allotted supplies that were intended for the ragged settlers living in the bowels of the ship. There were even whispers that those supplies had been sold on the black market to line the pockets of the top crew.

Supposedly the three warriors were there to do a routine check for solium leaks, but in truth they would take advantage of the opportunity to look into the rumors.

Apollo passed out solium detectors and then carefully checked his weapon, giving Starbuck and Boomer a glance. They did the same, then followed the captain out. After a quick word with the bay chief, Apollo indicated a hatch on the far side.

“I studied the layout before we got sent out,” he said quietly. “The bridge is fore and topside. The engines we’re supposed to be checking are two levels below and aft, very close to where the settlers are housed. So we’re lucky, there. We can simply say we were tracing a leak.”

“And we can accidentally bump into some sources of information?” Boomer asked, sounding amused. Apollo nodded.

“Uh, Captain, how true is it, this solium leak excuse?” Starbuck asked nervously.

Boomer rolled his eyes.

~~o~~

Later, of course, Starbuck had plenty of time to kick himself for not seeing it coming. Not just because the three of them seemed to have a talent for getting into trouble without even trying, but also because he’d almost been waiting, all this time, for something to go wrong. Because even with all the uncertainty, he’d never been happier in his life than in these last two sectons; never happier, than being with Apollo.

So, of course, Apollo got taken away.

It happened without warning. They’d made their way belowdecks and into the storage area that the settlers had refitted into a set of living spaces divided by nothing but fabric and plexi partitions. A grilled, raised walkway separated the sections port and starboard. Apollo was ahead of them on the walkway, speaking to a cluster of men and women who were raggedly dressed and fragrant from lack of water supplies. Starbuck and Boomer were interviewing some inhabitants of their own when a roar raised their heads.

A large man, over two meters tall and built like a fuel tanker, had plowed through the crowd and was shouting about food shortages and ‘privileged warriors.’ In the press, Apollo couldn’t draw his weapon, and Starbuck didn’t have a chance to before the man swooped out an arm and yanked Apollo down off the walkway and into the cubicles with a crash.

“Apollo!” Starbuck shouted, both he and Boomer drawing their lasers and charging forward, moving with difficulty through the cluster of settlers. But when the swirling mass pulled back, the man already had Apollo in a chokehold, stolen laser in hand and pressed up against Apollo’s temple. Apollo’s mouth was bloody.

“Back!” the man shouted. Apollo looked up at Starbuck calmly, his hands raised in a gesture for them to stay back.

“It’s okay. Let’s just talk–” he said, but the man just growled. His arm flexed, and Apollo’s face reddened.

_Choking him. He’s choking him._

“Hey, mister,” Starbuck forced himself to say lightly. “If you’re gonna kill my captain, can you do me a favor and take out his father, too? Otherwise, I’m going to be scrubbing the sanitation barge for the next millennium.”

It seemed to disarm the man, for he loosened his hold minutely. Starbuck heard, even over the alarmed murmur of the crowd, the welcome sound of Apollo gasping in some air.

“Yeah, you know Commander Adama–wouldn’t take kindly to it if we lost his son,” Boomer said, following his lead. It was a risk, letting the settler know he had such a valuable hostage, but better that than lose Apollo to the man’s unthinking rage.

“His son! Well, maybe then he’ll be willing to finally listen to what’s happening here! We’re starving! The crew of this ship is starving us for their own gain! My daughter–” the big man choked.

“That’s why were here,” Starbuck said quietly. He took a cautious step forward, keeping his voice low and reasonable. “We’re here to find out if the rumors were true.”

The settler shook his head. “Another lie, like the lie that the last shipment was contaminated, and the one before that rerouted to another ship–”

The crowd rumbled angry agreement.

“We’re here for the truth,” Apollo croaked out, his voice sounding torn and strained. “The commander sent me himself.”

Doubt crawled over the man’s face. “I...I have to think,” he said. He lifted the laser and waved it at Starbuck and Boomer.

“You, warriors, you leave now. Go tell the commander it’s true. They are starving us here. You make them send food, food for our babies. _Untainted_ food. It’s too late for my Tabita, but not for the others.”

“Wait–”

The man’s arm flexed again, and Apollo raised his hands, clutching at it, blood again filling his face.

“No! No waiting. No more waiting. You tell him Rigo says the commander’s son for the lives of our babies.”

“C’mon,” Boomer whispered, tugging anxiously at Starbuck’s arm. Starbuck backed away slowly, not wanting to lose sight of the green eyes staring at him from the reddened face.

_Taking him away._

~~o~~

“We’re fracked, you know that,” Boomer said as the turned the wheel of the hatch behind him. “If the crew catches wind of this we could get caught between the two. We have to get word back to the _Galactica_ , get some troops in here to button down the situation.”

Starbuck nodded, still stuck on the same train of thought like a rodent on a wheel. _Taking him away from me. I can’t let it happen._

“Go,” Starbuck said. “I’ll keep watch here. Go tell the commander everything.”

Boomer clapped him on the shoulder and was gone.

The next centare was agony. Knowing Apollo, he was probably trying to talk to the man, but Rigo, overwhelmed with grief, hadn’t seemed incredibly rational to Starbuck. He couldn’t hear anything through the thick bulkhead, and had only his thoughts to keep him company.

All he could think was, he needed one more chance.

Life had never been incredibly generous to Starbuck, and what he did have, he’d had to scramble for. He’d risen from the orphanage to get his Fleet Academy scholarship, gambled his way through to pay his expenses, and had fought tooth and claw to become a pilot, earning his lieutenancy in spite of the class prejudice that would have kept him below ranks.

About the only thing he’d never had to fight for was Apollo. Apollo’s friendship was a gift, bestowed unasked. In fact, Starbuck had come pretty close to fracking it up in the early days, back when he’d thought Apollo was nothing more than a rich man’s son, privileged and useless.

Apollo had ignored the smokescreen and determinedly sought him out. Offered himself as best friend, wingmate, and eventually, lover. But like any gift Starbuck had ever received, it had never felt wholly his. The one time he had offered to pay for it, in the Ship of Lights, he had been gently refused.

He’d never believed in anything at all before the Ship came, before it returned Apollo to him. So he didn’t have the first idea how to pray. And he still had nothing to offer. Except his pride.

_Lords of the Lights, please. I beg you. Don’t take him away._

_  
_ ~~o~~

The next sound he heard was the clatter of warrior boots on the deck. Boomer was at the lead.

“We’ve secured the bridge, and we’ve got some emergency supplies,” he said, his face sweaty. “The commander was dead set on coming himself, but Tigh wouldn’t let him. Too dangerous.” Boomer grimaced. Starbuck could imagine how Adama had responded to the restriction.

Boomer went on, “The commander has authorized us to negotiate for Apollo, but he says there will be no pardon for the man who abducted him. Since we would have fed them, anyway, he doesn’t consider the supply shuttle we’ve got coming in to be a concession.”

Starbuck nodded. “I’m going back in there. Alone. You hang back by the hatch. Keep an eye on me and be ready to bring in the troops if...things go bad.”

Boomer nodded, his brown eyes anxious.

Starbuck heard the whispers and mutters below him like an ocean of sound as he stepped back up the walkway. He stopped close to where he had left Apollo, but he and Rigo were nowhere to be seen. Then he heard a voice, angry, and a muffled grunt of pain, and Rigo pushed out from behind a curtain, Apollo in front of him. Apollo’s hands were bound before him, and the familiar arm once again circled his neck. The blood had dried on his lips, but there was a fresh trail snaking from his eyebrow and tracking down his cheek. He looked up at Starbuck, and smiled reassuringly.

Starbuck was not reassured.

“Well, Warrior? Did you bring us our food?”

“Food is on the way,” Starbuck said, then raised his voice over the murmur of the crowd. “But we would have brought it anyway, you know that. If we had known about this sooner–”

“And how were we to tell you, when the crew controls all communications?” came an angry cry from below and to his right. He saw a stick-thin woman in a tattered blue tunic, her gray eyes wild. “We had no way to contact you!”

“Yes, I know. But we do know, finally. Like I said, that’s why we came, Apollo and Boomer and I. To find out the truth. We pretended it was to check for solium leaks–”

“That’s what this one said,” Rigo said grudgingly, giving Apollo an ungentle shake. Apollo grimaced, and Starbuck clenched his teeth.

“You should also know that we’ve secured the bridge, and the crew is under arrest until we can isolate the guilty. We’ve brought interim supplies, and the regular supply shuttle will be here within a few centares–”

“Too late,” Rigo moaned. “Too late for my Tabita.” There were tears running down his cheeks now, and his voice cracked as he said, “Maybe I should take the commander’s son, so that he can know my grief. Maybe next time he won’t be as slow to act.”

“Rigo!” This from the woman in blue.

Starbuck’s chest was suddenly cold, and his eyes dropped to Apollo’s. He saw Apollo’s lips thin grimly. Starbuck forced himself to look away and address the weeping man.

“Rigo,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t just be punishing the commander. What about everyone else who cares about Apollo? What about his sister? His son?”

“More of the privileged,” Rigo sneered, hatred in his thick voice.

Suddenly it was so clear, what Starbuck had to do. What he had to say.

“Apollo adopted his son, Rigo. And what about me? I may be a warrior, but I’m also an orphan. I grew up in an orphanage. I had nothing. I had nothing for most of my life.”

The man was blinking at him, looking confused by the change in tack.

“I never had anything that I could call mine.” Starbuck’s throat hurt, and he swallowed hastily so he could continue. He didn’t dare look at Apollo, but kept his eyes on Rigo’s tear-filled ones.

“Except him, Rigo. I had– _have–_ Apollo. He’s my best friend. He’s _all_ I have. I...I love him. Please don’t take him away. Please, Rigo. Please.”

His voice failed him then, and he could only stand mute, begging with his eyes, tears blurring his vision so that he barely saw it when, with a sob of defeat, Rigo released Apollo, the laser clattering to the deck.

Starbuck blinked twice, and then Apollo was pushing himself up onto the walkway to stand in front of him.

“Apollo,” Starbuck said. His arms came up to hold him impossibly tight. “I’ve got you.”

“Yes,” Apollo said, sounding strange. “You’ve got me.”

~~o~~

 _Three levels up. Two corridors over, and the last door on the right._ Starbuck counted off needlessly as he walked to Apollo’s quarters. He could find it in his sleep.

After that moment on the walkway, everything had exploded into a flurry of movement and sound. Warriors had come bustling in with supplies, and Boomer arrested Rigo and took him away. Starbuck and Apollo had been separated for centares in debriefing, then a worried Adama had dragged Apollo off for a quick check-up in the Life Center.

Starbuck had gone back to his quarters where he’d recommenced his debate about what to wear for their belated dinner. He had no idea what Apollo felt about what he’d said on the walkway, but Starbuck figured if he trusted the guy to take a laser burst for him, he could trust Apollo knowing how much he cared about him.

At least, Apollo hadn’t sounded unhappy about it.

And so Starbuck got dressed. On the walk over, his shirtsleeve caught his eye. It was sky blue. Cass had once told him the color was the same shade as his eyes.

He stood in front of Apollo’s door for a few microns, his hand wavering before the chime. Then he pressed. The hatch slid open almost immediately, and there stood Apollo, his eyes wide.

They matched his green shirt almost exactly.

“Hi,” Starbuck said, heart in throat and head pounding with a rush of blood. His usual insouciance had deserted him completely. All he could see was Apollo’s eyes.

“Come-come in,” Apollo stammered after a moment. His voice was hoarse and sounded painful. He looked perfect, bruises and all.

Starbuck walked toward him, letting the door slide shut behind him. There was a moment of silence, almost heavy.

And then Apollo was kissing him.

 _Yes._ Starbuck had been hoping for answers to some all-important questions, such as how did Apollo feel about Starbuck saying he loved him, and could he keep him forever and ever? But talk was overrated, anyway.

And he was a little afraid of the answers.

But maybe they were here, anyway, on Apollo’s lips, along with the slight tang of blood from the cut that reopened when Starbuck took the kiss deeper. He pressed hard, wanting to put all of himself inside Apollo, starting with his tongue.

Starbuck was glad he had put on the blue shirt, but he didn’t wear it for long. Apollo had him stripped and on the bed before thirty microns had passed. And then Apollo’s hands and mouth were touching him, charting him with gentle licks and strokes and possessive nibbles until he was moaning and begging.

The soft chuckle sounded hoarse when Apollo rolled away long enough to shuck off his pants and take off his shirt. When he turned back, Starbuck reached over to gently trace the red marks on the delicate skin of Apollo’s throat. Apollo lay dead still, letting him.

“They almost took you away from me,” Starbuck said, his lingering fear choking him.

“Star,” Apollo said, sounding awed. And then Starbuck pushed him down so he could lay healing kisses on the marks, finally drifting up to take Apollo’s mouth once again.

“Don’t you know they can’t?” Apollo said, when Starbuck let him speak again.

“Mmm?” Starbuck was distracted, trying to catch the fluttering of dark lashes with his lips. He planted a delicate kiss on each of Apollo’s eyelids, capturing them still. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t take me away. I’m yours,” Apollo said simply.

Starbuck drew in a breath. It seemed to go on forever, his lungs expanding against whatever had clamped it tight for all these yahrens. He got dizzy with it, his head swimming.

“Apollo.” He was glad for the extra oxygen, because once he started kissing Apollo again, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop to save their lives, but finally Apollo pulled away, forcing him back. He suddenly realized he had rolled on top of Apollo and was crushing him into the mattress.

“Mine?” Starbuck couldn’t believe it.

“Didn’t you say so, back on the freighter?” Apollo traced his lips with his fingers, and Starbuck nibbled automatically, staring down at the suddenly wistful smile.

“Mine.” And he bent down to kiss away the wistfulness, then drifted lower to suck at the skin along Apollo’s collarbone before taking one small, dark nipple between his teeth. “Mine,” he said with his mouthful, smiling when Apollo gasped and arched up against his lips.

“Yours,” Apollo said, and raised his legs to wrap them around Starbuck’s waist.

Starbuck reached between them and slipped his hand beneath Apollo’s balls to circle his anus with a teasing touch. He waited.

“Yours,” Apollo agreed, his eyes closed and his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

Starbuck reached into the small drawer in the bedstead and grabbed the tube of lubricant. He wasted no time getting the cap off and slicking his fingers. Leaning low, he kissed Apollo’s lips lightly, slipping a gentle finger inside the warmth that now belonged to him.

Apollo moaned.

Starbuck’s cock was making some pretty urgent requests, but he took his time, enjoying the sounds streaming from Apollo’s lips, and the constriction of the band of muscle convulsing around his fingers. Wanting him.

“Gods, Starbuck,” Apollo groaned.

Starbuck’s eyes closed and he focused on his fingers, thrusting them in, then turning them and splitting them wide to stretch the stubborn muscle while Apollo gasped and jerked.

Starbuck jolted suddenly himself when a firm hand grasped his cock. His eyes shot open and he looked down into green eyes crinkling up at him.

“Mine?” Apollo asked, and his lips quirked mischievously.

“Yours,” Starbuck agreed, shuddering when the lubed fingers ran over his tender flesh.

“Then bring it over here,” Apollo said, smiling more fully now.

It was good to see him smile. Starbuck thought he would pretty much do anything to see it more often. And especially if it was accompanied by the sound of pure pleasure Apollo made as Starbuck pushed his cock slowly into the warmth of Apollo’s soft, heated channel. So easy, this time. With one slow, velvet slide, Starbuck was pressing deep, thrusting against the sweet spot within that had Apollo’s hips bucking hard against him.

“Ahhh! Gods. Gods.” Apollo’s eyes squeezed shut, and Starbuck lifted one hand from the mattress to drift it down his face. Apollo’s eyes opened again, the green glazed with passion.

_Mine, too, the look in his eyes right now._

__Starbuck started rocking shallowly, rhythmically thrusting past the sensitive nub inside Apollo, over and over, and he knelt up to wrap both of his hands around Apollo’s hard cock, pumping it faster and faster. He threw his head back to get the hair out if his eyes so he could watch Apollo’s face, watch the full lips open on a moan as Starbuck thrust again and again. Starbuck dropped one hand to fork his fingers around his own cock, to feel it sliding in and out of the tight heat.

Apollo’s hands came up to steady on Starbuck’s biceps, and then he squeezed them painfully hard, his head falling back, long throat distending as he shouted his orgasm in a hoarse voice. The hard cock in Starbuck’s hand spurted its seed, streaming short ribbons of white cream, and Starbuck felt the quick clasping of the muscles around his cock. He groaned his own pleasure, watching Apollo gasp and shudder.

The careful rhythm was broken as Starbuck released Apollo to lean over him and thrust deep and hard for precious microns, pounding into him. Apollo cried out again, and Starbuck’s voice joined his before he held his breath and came harder than he ever had in his life, his balls clenching with it.

“Pol. Pol.” Starbuck collapsed over Apollo, whose legs slipped down to fall onto the bed. Then Apollo’s arms were around him, hugging hard, and Starbuck pressed his cheek against Apollo’s ear.

“Mine.” He whispered it, and Apollo’s head moved in a weak nod. 

"I love you, Starbuck."

_Mine._

__~~o~~

The dream was murky, and Starbuck pulled out of it with a gasp, heart thumping in his chest and pushing panic through his system.

But there was a lean arm lying across him, holding him down. _Apollo’s arm._ And that was Apollo’s warm leg tangled with his.

Starbuck took a calming breath and turned to face him. Apollo mumbled something in his sleep. It sounded like ‘Want.’ And his arm tugged restlessly at him.

Starbuck went with it, moving in closer, sliding his hand over Apollo’s waist before laying a quick kiss on the dark head.

He relaxed, and let sleep take him.

  


_End._

  
..................  
05.12.2006

  



End file.
